


Send Nudes

by Vixx2pointOh



Series: Oliver The ... [10]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe, Chance Meetings, Chemistry, F/M, Flirting, Meet-Cute, Oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 20:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16415207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixx2pointOh/pseuds/Vixx2pointOh
Summary: 《That one time technology was not Felicity Smoak's best friend.》The picture of the skateboarding pug puppy was adorable, why not share it with a plane full of passengers?Only that wasn't the picture she sent.Oh no, it wasn't.





	Send Nudes

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I have WIPs I'm supposed to be writing but after Ash (obviously this is her fault) sent me the first pic along with the basic premise and we spent probably an entire day laughing about it... I couldn't not write this.
> 
> So enjoy.
> 
> You need to be able to see the pictures for the full effect, let me know if you have any problems seeing them.
> 
> PS: while this isn't strictly an "Oliver the..." fic, I've added it to the series because I wanted to, so I did, because I can.

**Because sometimes the funniest accidents give rise to the best moments.**

 

It wasn’t a long flight, five hours and 15 minutes with a tail wind to be exact, and Felicity was almost certain that last Hobbit movie she sat through was longer than that; but as she checked her clock for at least the fifteenth time since the plane took off from the tarmac she realised it had barely been an hour.

The petite blonde shuffled in her oversized jacket, thrown over a comfortable tank and groaned exasperatedly, which then garnered a terse look from an older lady across the aisle who was knitting by tray table-mounted light. Felicity normally enjoyed the serenity that a red-eye flight provided, and while she seldom ever slept on planes, she always found a certain level of relaxation in spreading a blanket over her tented legs before curling them under her body and delving into a great book. But tonight, _rather this morning,_ was different. This trip to Vegas had her stomach in knots, doing somersaults and committing mutiny all at the same time.

She would have liked to be avoiding this particular trip. She had practically begged for overtime at work and had taken her temperature at least a dozen times in the last week, but _alas_ , she was stupidly healthy and far too conscientious to be snowed under with work. Sure, she could have lied, but if there was one thing other than walking in sky-high stilettos that her mother was good at, it was detecting lies.

At least this flight allowed WiFi and she managed to stay entertained for about 40 minutes, engaged in an oddly humorous chat with a friend who was clearly inebriated and messaging Felicity a random selection of pictures off her phone. But said friend hadn’t replied for 15 minutes and Felicity assumed she’d finally fallen asleep and she made a mental note to call her in a few hours.

There was one particular photo that had made Felicity smile and while she glanced around the plane at the few flickers of light where people were still awake, but quiet, an idea piqued her interest.

_Air drop._

It wasn’t something she’d used, or at least not to send anything. She had received a rather harmless but adorable picture of a baby in a penguin costume during a lunch in a café a few weeks ago (which she assumed wasn’t actually for her) and a local pizzeria on her walk home occasionally liked to send out spam-like specials as she wandered past, weather permitting; but she’d never used it beyond that.

Maybe it was the boredom speaking or the fact she hadn’t slept in close to 20 hours, or maybe it was just something to give herself _something_ other than the _wedding of awkward_ to think about; but in a fleeting moment, Felicity decided to send an adorable dog picture into the stratosphere and maybe, just maybe, make someone smile – _after all, who wouldn’t smile at a pug in a backwards cap riding a skateboard?_

She loaded the image, changed her settings and got ready to send the image just as an air steward walked back and knocked her elbow before offering an apologetic smile. Taking her eyes from the screen, Felicity acknowledge the accident with a mouthed _no worries_. When she looked down at the screen again she realised she’d dropped out of the settings and, clicking absently with her pearlescent tipped fingers, she repeated the steps before firing it away.

She sat back in her chair and smiled as she waited for a soft laugh or a coo of acknowledgement, but when her eyes dropped momentarily down to her screen she didn’t see that adorable pug with a lippy smile, _oh no_ , she saw something quite different.

 _Shit._  
_She hadn’t just…_

  
**|==|**

Oliver Queen was minding his own business. His eyes were tired and there was a dull thump behind them, but it was nothing a power nap in the hotel and a brisk cold shower wouldn’t dull enough for him to get through this next meeting. The truth was he hadn’t managed a decent night’s sleep in about two weeks as he dotted his way across the continent, and abroad, doing what needed to be done.

But Vegas was a last stop. The last meeting he needed to attend and the last ' _t'_ he had to cross. He would be in and out; done and dusted within the day and be on the first flight home tomorrow night. Home to his own bed and the sudden, engulfing quiet that he had begun to crave.

He fired off the last of the emails he was intent on sending before he attempted to numb his brain with some mindless television shows he hadn’t had the opportunity to watch yet when a pop up took over his screen.

_What the…_

 

 

“Where did that come from?” he mouthed to himself before he slowly looked up.

  
**|==|**

Felicity was hiding now. Hunkered down in her seat like a naughty child expecting their parent to notice any minute what they’d done. She could hear the constant thud of her heart slamming into her chest with every delayed breath she took.

There was a husky laugh a few rows up and the lady with her knitting glared down at her phone before her chin recoiled in disgust.  
_Oh god._  
_Oh god._  
_It was okay_ she tried to console herself, after all she would only need to wait it out 10 minutes or so before this entire thing blew over and only she would know the truth of it. That was fine, she could do 10 minutes. She pulled the in flight magazine from the pocket in front and started nonchalantly flicking pages as her fingers trembled at the edges.

She glanced down at her phone, which she had reactively thrown onto the empty seat beside the window, just in time to see the screen light up.

Someone had replied. 

 

 

She laughed much louder than she had anticipated and it was reminiscent of a shriek before she noticed a head shoot around on the other side of the aisle and a few rows ahead of her. Without hesitating she sunk deeper into her chair, clamped her hand over her mouth and, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she sent something back.

 

 

 

She heard a laugh coming from the same direction where she had seen a flash of head and, going against all her better judgment, Felicity leaned over the arm of her chair and looked right down the aisle – at the exact moment he did.

 _He_ was utterly gorgeous, or at least everything from the eyes up was – of that much she could be certain. She couldn’t see his mouth so she couldn’t tell if he was smiling, but based on the slight crinkles at the corners of his azure eyes and the slight twinkle they possessed, she was fairly certain he was.

She also couldn’t see him gasp a little and mouth the word ‘ _wow_ ’ quite unintentionally as he caught sight of her. He may have been overworked, tired, homesick and probably jetlagged, but he was 100% sure that he was looking at the prettiest half a face peeking out from the edge of an airplane seat that he had ever seen. No contest.

When they both finally realised they were staring they suddenly pulled back and disappeared into their respective hideaways. A minute lapsed with Felicity staring at her phone; half wanting a reply and half dreading one. But nothing came and those precious seconds soon felt like hours as she noted her sudden inability to blink.

Just as her eyes were drying out behind her glasses, she blinked, and in that split second where her eyes were seemingly useless, she heard a voice.  
A husky and pleasantly deep voice.  
“Daisy?”  
_Oh shit._  
Her eyes jolted open and there were the same jem-like eyes looking down at her, and the first thing she thought was how well the bottom half of his face; strong jaw, slight scruff, full lips, suited the top half in a deliciously appealing way.  
“I really hope I haven’t embarrassed myself,” he added when her lips stayed shut and her slow blinks became almost robotic.

Felicity soon pulled herself together and shook off the initial surprise as a smile floated across her nearly-nude lips. “You must be Donald, although you don’t look anything like your picture,” she teased with an airy chuckle.  
“I was hoping you’d overlook that,” he replied, a broad smile brightening his face and making the perfect angles of his jaw flex.

“I’m really sorry,” she sighed as the apples of her cheeks turned a watercolour-red. “I wasn’t supposed to send the first picture,” she paused to offer a cringed smile that made her nose crinkle. “I had this very cute picture of a pug puppy to send and I somehow managed to mix it up.”   
How someone with two degrees focused on computers and technology could make such a rookie mistake was not lost on her.  
He looked almost disappointed for a moment. “Well it made me laugh,” he remarked as he casually leaned against the empty seat in front.  
“Job done then I guess,” she said while she shrugged her shoulder to her cheek.  
“Can’t sleep on planes?”  
“Usually, but,” a fleeting sigh, “not this trip.”  
“First time to Vegas?”  
She caught him glancing around, perhaps expecting to see a gaggle of women on a hen’s trip. “Oh no, I grew up there,” she answered swiftly. “You?”  
He casually moved his arm which made his bicep flex under the tight woollen weave of his pullover. In any other setting she might have concluded that move was intentional to show off some sort of prowess he possessed, _already duly noted_ , but on him it and at that place and time it appeared genuine and incidental. “I’ve been a couple of times, business and pleasure,” he paused to drag his teeth over his bottom lip, “that sounded less seedy in my head.”  
“It’s Vegas,” Felicity humoured, “you’ll always sound a bit seedy talking about it.”

“Is everything alright sir?” a crew member asked with a cordial smile sat perfectly across her candy-pink pout.  
“Oh, yeah, fine,” Oliver answered with a nervous sort of fluster in the tips of his fingers as they went from touching his ear to his neck, to the lengths of his crew-cut hair, to the seat he was leaning against.  
Another flash of a perfectly poised – and likely trained – smile came from the hostess. “I’m afraid we can’t have you standing in the aisle Sir.”  
Oliver blushed like a scolded school kid. “Sorry, of course.” The hostess seemed well-enough pleased with her gentle prod and she left with the same smile on her lips. Oliver’s shoulders slumped as he gave Felicity a deflated smile and scuffed his shoes on the carpet. “It was nice to meet you…,”  
“Felicity,” she offered when he raised a brow in expectation.  
“Oliver.” He extended his hand in a friendly gesture and Felicity took it without hesitation. Thankfully she found it tepid and dry, and unsurprisingly strong. Their hands lingered, palm to palm, fingers gripped, for longer than they needed; much longer.

“I guess I should get going before she comes back,” Oliver lamented as their hands finally fell apart.  
She didn’t give herself more than a moment to consider her next words, and while that often spelled a babbling disaster, on this occasion she didn’t regret her spur of the moment decision. “There’s no one sitting here if you, um,” she nodded down to the window seat where her purse sat.  
A smile broke across his face, “Yeah?”  
“Sure,” she touched her fingertips absently to her neck where an abrupt pulse of heat blushed her skin. “I’d love to know where you got that Donald picture from,” she paused, realising she hadn’t given him much of an opportunity to chivalrously decline the offer and a sudden wave of panic washed over her. “Unless you don’t want to,” she quickly added, “which of course you don’t have to and would absolutely be fine.”  
“Actually,” Oliver perked up, jumping in before she rescinded the offer, “my neighbour is snoring up there so, I’d like to,” he breathed warmly.

“Well okay then.” Felicity moved over to the window seat while Oliver took the aisle seat she had been sitting in.  
“Pinterest,” he remarked as he sat down, the word coming out like a huff of air.   
“Pardon?” she effused.  
He looked at her and smiled at the tiny wrinkles across the bridge of her nose. “I got the picture from Pinterest.”  
“You have the Pinterest app on your phone?”  
He ruffled his hand through his hair and gestated an answer. “It has some great memes,” his voice raised with a slight inflection at the end, as though it was more of a question, less of a statement.  
Her lips furrowed into a wonky smile. “Oh really?”  
“I don’t know,” he replied, hanging his head in shame as he laughed.  
  
“So what takes you to Vegas?” Felicity enquired, turning the conversation.  
“Business,” Oliver shrugged lethargically. “I’m a sports agent so I’m just here to sign on another client then book it right back home again first thing tomorrow.”   
She sighed dreamily, she’d love to be able to ‘book it right back home again’ to her apartment, her couch, her series of Netflix shows she had to catch up on, a bottle of red and the snuggly blanket she kept in the coffee table drawer… _bliss_.  
“You?” Oliver quizzed, interrupting her momentary dream.  
“A wedding,” she caught him glimpse quickly down at her hand. “Not mine.”  
He laughed, as did she, but thoughts of relief bounced around his head. There was just something about her that drew him in and he couldn’t help but imagine himself being disappointed if she was a _bride to be_.

“My cousin’s,” Felicity annexed.   
He smiled, as expected. “Nice.”  
“And my ex boyfriend’s.”  
“Oh.” His mouth gaped a little longer than he had intended before he could winch it back up.  
“It’s fine,” she simpered, “we broke up a long time ago and not because of them so, no cliché awkward there.” There was still a little squint in his eye. “And I’m not going to crash the wedding if you’re worried about me being a crazy ex,” she laughed luminously.  
“I wasn’t,” he answered. _Maybe he was for a fraction of a second._  
“Well, in case you were, I’m fine with them getting married, albeit a little weird.”  
“And yet you don’t seem like you want to go.”  
“Oh, I very much don’t,” she said with a pragmatic nod, “if I still had wisdom teeth I would have booked in to have them removed this weekend.”  
“That excited huh?”  
“I’m Jewish,” she sighed as though that should answer all his current and future questions.  
It didn’t and his brow crumpled in bemusement. “Happy Hannukah in four months?”  
“Thank you,” she remarked. “But that’s not…” she paused to groan out a small sigh, “…I’m Jewish so this wedding will be _large_ , and when I say _large_ I’m not exaggerating,” she announced with such an animated nature that Oliver couldn’t help but grin like an idiot at her. “Also I’m two years older than my cousin.” As though that explained it, _it still didn’t_. “ _Annnnd_ …” she held up her hand, “…unmarried. See where I’m going with this?”

He let her words ruminate around his mind for a few moments before it all slotted together. He understood alright because aside from the Jewish part, he _lived_ it too.  
“Let me guess,” he began with a forlorn sigh. “‘When are you getting married?’ Will be a phrase you’ll hear a lot.”  
She shot a finger his way as she nodded. “I very almost googled fake wedding dates,” she paused when she realised what she had just said and her cheeks turned a blazing shade of red. “That’s really embarrassing and I don’t know why I told you.”  
“I wish I had thought of that last Christmas honestly,” Oliver remarked, his confession helping to simmer down Felicity’s burning embarrassment.  
“Big family?” she asked.  
“No, but every year my mother puts on this luncheon and there is no way I can’t not go, but it’s just an endless ‘I have someone perfect for you…’,” he prattled with a roll of his eyes.   
She screwed her face up animatedly. “Oh god I hate that one. The last event I went to I was set up with my second cousin’s nail technician’s grandson,” she grimaced, “He was 42 years old.”

“So when is this cruel torture with canapés?”   
“Tomorrow night, because of course today I'm expected to endure other family activities.”  
He gave her a knowing nod, “Of course you do.”  
“I bet your business meeting sounds pretty good right now?” she teased as she idly plucked the ends of her soft hair.  
“Actually yes,” he chortled, “Sorry.”

He folded his lips before he gave her an out which doubled as a probing question to his benefit. “Just tell them your boyfriend couldn’t come.”  
“No boyfriend to speak of,” she answered and Oliver held back a smile. “And if I make one up, they’ll ask for proof of life.”  
“Pinterest?” Oliver cracked up and in a moment of much-needed brevity, so did Felicity, garnering a few wayward glances from other passengers.

Once they had settled, Oliver continued talking, “Are you staying with family?”  
“I actually got a room at the hotel where they’re having the wedding reception because I can fake an illness or if there is an open bar I don’t have too far to stumble into a bed.”  
“Ingenious.”  
“I thought so too.”

They talked effortlessly for hours and the next time Felicity looked at her watch it was only after the pilot announced they would be starting their decent.   
“I should go back to my seat I suppose,” Oliver remarked as the seatbelt sign lit up an angry red. “My bag is above it,” he added, unnecessarily, but for some reason he wanted her to know he’d stay if he could…  
“Sure,” she replied, nodding her head in understanding.  
“It was really nice talking to you,” he said as he stood up. “Maybe uh,” the plane shuddered a little as they hit a patch of turbulence, “maybe I could get…” another shudder and the air hostess appeared.  
“Sir, could you please take your seat.”  
He ground his back teeth together, as Felicity gave him a soothing smile. “I could see you on the other side,” she spoke as the hostess began to shuffle Oliver towards his seat.  
He pointed to the door and nodded, before she nodded back.  
_He hadn’t gotten her number._

He was somewhat forced to move with the crowd as they disembarked and, typically, the area was soon filled with passengers from five other planes that had arrived at the same time. Glancing back a few times he saw her moving with the crowd as well and, thinking the arrangement was made, Oliver decided to wait for her on the other side of security.

He waited for 10 minutes there, then 20 and it was almost 30 minutes when he realised he couldn’t see her anywhere. Maybe that wasn’t what she had meant; maybe he’d misheard or misunderstood.

Disenchanted, Oliver left 40 minutes later.  
He never got her number and he didn’t even know her last name.

**|==|**

Another soppy love song played through the stupidly large speakers on either side of the dance floor as the wedding reception kicked off. The wedding had been more awkward than Felicity had expected as the groom's mother kept her eyes honed on her with an unreadable expression, and as the couple exchanged their vows all Felicity could think about was that one time the groom got his dick caught in his zipper and she was desperate to know if he still had the scar to prove it.

She had managed to side step every well-meaning distant relative or friend or friend of a friend that somehow knew her dating history but she hadn't managed to avoid the looks of pity that had been tossed her way as though seeing her ex marry her cousin must have been devastating.

Awkward? _Yes_.  
Devastating? _No_.   
She had broken up with him when he became increasingly neurotic over her burgeoning career. It was amicable enough and it was _years_ ago, but the stigma that he had moved on and she had ... in their minds at least ... not, gave rise to the cacophony of pity smiles.

 _Speaking of..._ when another one was thrown her way, Felicity downed the remaining half of her wine and gritted her teeth as the giver made her way towards the bar where Felicity had commandeered a stool for the night.

“This must be so hard for you,” the woman, a friend of the family she’d met maybe twice before, with a ring on every finger cooed as she tipped her head to one shoulder. “But I have the perfect man for you...”  
Felicity went to open her mouth in the hopes some cordial but direct comeback would flow freely from it when a there was a soft peck on her cheek.

She sat frozen on her stool as she blinked morse code to her brain ‘was that real?’.  
“I’m sorry I’m late,” a familiar voice spoke softly near her ear, a pleasantly warm breath misting her skin.  
She turned slowly and found Oliver, _Donald_ , standing in a white dress shirt with an open top button, smiling broadly. “I hope I haven’t missed too much of the excitement,” he continued with a gentle stroke of his fingers down her spine.  
“Nope, you haven’t,” she answered, feigning her bemusement behind a scarlet smile.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you,” the older woman paused to assess her faux pas.  
“My apologies for interrupting, it just seems like weeks since I’ve seen Felicity, would you mind if I stole her away?” he prattled, with a debonair charm that Felicity hadn’t encountered during their plane trip. Which means he hadn’t turned it on for her; a refreshing turn on.  
“Not at all,” the woman apologetically gestured with her hands while she backed away.

Once that were alone Oliver leaned closer and spoke, “Hi.”  
“What are you doing here? I thought you…how did you find…” she took a breath to still the words flying from her mouth before she settled on just one question, “Hi. What are you doing here?”  
“I didn’t get your number,” he breathed as his cheeks flushed peach and his chin bobbed near his chest.  
“I got caught up in security, you would think no one that works there has ever seen a suitcase full of tech before,” she rolled her eyes as she spoke, recounting the official asking her if it was an explosive device. “I can’t help it if I tinker when I’m stressed.”  
Something suddenly occurred to her, “Weren’t you supposed to fly back this morning?”  
He smiled sheepishly, “I was.” She looked at him curiously as he perched on the empty stool beside her. “But I didn’t get your number.”

She watched as he breathed in slowly through his mouth, wet his lips nervously, and then exhaled an almost silent sigh. “I really hope this doesn’t come off creepy or stalkerish and if you’re uncomfortable in anyway please just tell me to leave.”   
She soon found her hand resting on his knee, “It isn’t and I’m not.”  
The relief on his face was apparent. “I won’t lie, that’s a relief, but please if you at any moment are, just… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he assured her.

He could feel the heat blushing his cheeks and his mouth was suddenly very dry, but he hadn’t been to almost every hotel in this City of Hotels to find her and not just _get this out._ “I really enjoyed talking to you on the plane.” She nodded softly, afraid to interrupt his nervous words but wanting him to know that she felt the same. “I thought that maybe we could talk some more, but I…”  
“Didn’t get my number,” she finished his sentence with a grin.  
“Right that,” he effused. “A Jewish wedding reception in a hotel was all I had to go on, but they say Vegas is the City of lucky breaks.”  
“And you just happened upon this one? You should be playing the roulette table with that sort of luck,” she teased as she finally lifted her hand from his knee, though immediately – and strangely – missing it.  
He wavered his head from shoulder to shoulder as the edges of his lips flirted with a smirk. “Not exactly, and there are a surprising amount of Jewish weddings going on tonight,” he laughed.  
“How many?”  
His lips pouted and rolled as he recounted the various weddings he’d crashed. “I’ve been to five so far, this is wedding number six.”  
“Six must be your lucky number,” she offered coyly.  
“I guess so.”  
“So here you are.”  
“Here I am.”  
“Because you didn’t get my number.”  
“Right, and when I came into this wedding, saw you and overheard what that lady said…” he started.  
She finished, “Ah the dreaded, ‘I have someone perfect for you’.”  
He nodded as he chuckled at her spooky inflection, “I thought I’d jump in.”  
“Your timing is pretty impeccable.”  
He tugged on the cuffs of his shirt and puffed up his shoulders in a jested boast.  
“But you missed your flight, I thought you wanted to get home?” she added as she rippled her fingers through her wavy locks.  
“It will still be there tomorrow,” he said softly as his eyes melted into hers. They held that stare for what seemed like hours, both breathing slowly and silently as the noise of soppy love songs and nattering wedding guests faded into nothing, until finally Oliver spoke again. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be.”  
“Because you didn’t get my number,” she whispered, nearly breathless as the words fell husky from her throat.  
“I didn’t,” he replied, just as husky and just as breathless.

Felicity took a paper napkin from under her empty wine glass and a pen from her small clutch and wrote her name and number, blowing on the ink briefly before handing the note to Oliver.

“I guess now you have what you came for,” she remarked coquettishly.  
He felt the soft, flimsy paper between the pads of his thick fingers while his eyes studied each digit, as though he might need to commit it to memory. “I guess I do.”

“You know what’s funny Oliver?” she asked as she stood up from her stool and straightened the skirt of her gold cocktail dress. “If six isn't your lucky number,” she paused to take something out of her purse, “I’m not sure what to call this coincidence.” She held up her room key with the number **606** written in black, bold typeface.

“So,” she popped her red lips as her eyes shone out a smile, “I guess the question is, are you feeling lucky in Vegas?”

**|=The End=|**

**Author's Note:**

> Gawd I'm cruel...
> 
> Let me know what you thought.  
> Tumblr/Twitter @Someonesaidcake


End file.
